


all my sense had flown away

by waterleveldropping



Series: jonelias week 2020 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, College/University Setting, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Teacher Jon au, Threesome - F/M/M, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterleveldropping/pseuds/waterleveldropping
Summary: Out of the shower, he ties his shoulder-length hair into a tight ponytail, drying it as much as he can. Pulls warm, comfortable pajamas onto his damp skin. Elias and Daisy are waiting for him on the bed when he steps out of their shared bathroom.---Jon is a university philosophy professor forced to teach a film class when the current professor, Gertrude Robinson, dies unexpectedly. On top of dealing with film students, It doesn't exactly help that he's dating both his department head and the head of campus security.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Series: jonelias week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860007
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	all my sense had flown away

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt "queer identity/denial"

There are no shortage of claims to be made about film students. A pompous, arrogant, generally insufferable lot of twenty-somethings who can’t keep their unpopular (read: widely accepted) opinions about cinema to themselves. 

Despite teaching in the philosophy department, even Jon caught wind of these rumors from time to time. His colleagues in the film department- the few he could tolerate being around- were always complaining about something or another. Usual subjects were the newest Arthouse piece, popular directors, overused shot compositions, or their general contempt for one another.

Jon was more than happy staying out of it, though gossip was one of his lesser-known vices. It wasn't as if the philosophy department didn’t have it’s fair share of know-it-all pricks, but the film department was virtually known for it. Ultimately though, it was none of his business what they did. 

Or, it wasn’t until Gertrude Robinson died. And the film department was out a professor two weeks into the semester. 

And Jon had an opening in his class schedule.

And had subsequently been saddled with a mostly-undergraduate 8-AM two-hour philosophy of film class. 

With no prior notice or training. 

Jonathan Sims was running slightly behind schedule that morning, and nearly missed the second train he was trying to make. Thankfully, he skidded through the mechanical doors just the moment before they closed. The trade-off, however, was that he accidentally split about a quarter of his coffee on the young man in front of him.

" _Shit!_ Shit, sorry--” Jon hissed. He’d purchased the coffee right before boarding the tube, meaning it was still very hot by the time it ended up on this guy’s shirt. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated penitently. He didn’t even usually drink coffee, but this morning had already been out of the usual for him, and he had to stay awake through his courses somehow.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! No worries, professor.” the stranger replied, reaching into his bag for what Jon assumed were tissues of some kind.

“No, it’s my fault I--” Hang on. 

Jon looked up at the man’s face for the first time since getting on the train. 

Oh, hell. Blackwood. 

“Looks like we’re both a bit late this morning,” Martin chuckled awkwardly. The shirt he was wearing was, thankfully, a black _Smiths_ T-shirt, so not only was it not a piece of clothing Jon was particularly sad about ruining, it was also hiding the coffee stain pretty well. 

Martin continued to talk as he dabbed at the stain, “I was worried I’d be marked late, but, I guess…” he trailed off when Jon’s eyes twitched into a squint at the comment. He suddenly wished Martin _had_ been wearing a white pressed collar-up, or something equally as disastrous.

Martin K. Blackwood was, regrettably, one of the students in Jon’s new philosophy of film class. Lo and behold, the other stereotype of film majors: if they weren’t maddeningly snarky about proving they knew more than film about you, they were _shy_ about proving they knew more about film than you. Martin barely contributed to class discussion beyond checking off the box for his participation grade, but Jon knew from his papers that this kid had more to say about bizarre Polish indie films than anyone else Jon had ever met. 

“Yes, we seem to be in the same boat this time,” Jon remarked plainly as he untangled his headphone cord. He was not about to ride fifteen entire minutes enduring Martin’s embarrassingly bad attempts at conversation. Not like he doesn’t have another two hours of them coming up anyway. “I do still have the ability to mark you tardy, however.” 

Martin shut up after that, but Jon wouldn’t have known either way; the _Blue Öyster Cult_ album started loudly in his headphones the second the words left his mouth.

* * *

Despite starting almost half an hour late, the first half of the class went mostly without incident. They were discussing the different ways emotion and suspense were conveyed in classic horror films, and how music played a role in building that tension. Jon was planning to shove a screening of some Hitchcock he had on his flash drive into the second half, mostly just to be able to sit down in the dark for an hour and catch up on grading. 

An hour in, Jon announced the start of their short break, most students filing out the door to smoke or grab a bite to eat. Shortly after a majority of his class had left, the buzz of his phone in his back signaled that Daisy had clocked in. 

_Which room are you in again??_ She had texted him. 

_D132, communications wing._ He replied.

_Omw._

She was at the door less than a minute later, and he stepped out to meet her in the hall. 

“Here. Try and get up earlier next time.” 

“Right, well, that’s the idea, isn’t it.” he replied flatly, taking the plastic bag full of tupperware from her and looking inside. It contained two small plastic containers full of pasta and rice from last night’s dinner.

“Put forks in there for you, in case you don’t keep some in your desk or anything.” She remarked, tightening her ponytail. “Y’still have time to eat?”

“Should be alright, can always extend it a few minutes. Thanks for bringing it, Daisy.” He thinks he was going to ask her something, but he can’t quite remember.

“Don’t mention it.” she assures him. Her security guard shift starts a couple hours after his morning class, so she often ends up needing to play the part of delivering anything Jon left at the apartment. “See you, then.” 

“Yes,” he says, then remembers the question. “Erm-- when do you get off tonight again?” 

She turns and walks backwards, one hand in her jacket pocket, the other holding up four fingers. Jon nods and heads back into the classroom, making a mental note to text her before then. 

He gets about forty minutes into showing _The Birds_ and catching up on grades from this weekend for his ‘Existentialism and Phenomenology’ class before his other partner is knocking at his classroom door. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence…

Three is an HR referral? 

Jon silently excuses himself and steps out into the hall. “Elias,” he looks down at the stack of papers the other is handing him. “What’s this about?” 

“The proposed changes to the philosophy course listings next semester. You forgot to take a look at them this weekend.” he says, voice even. 

Jon mentally slaps himself. Another thing he’s forgotten; add it to the pile. “Right.” he says, apologetic. “Right, sorry, I’ll get on this soon as I can.” the request had totally slipped his mind. 

“I just need your choices Wednesday at the latest, preferably sooner.” Elias notes, and quickly tightens Jon’s tie out of habit. His eye’s survey Jon up and down and he’s suddenly very self-conscious; the fact that Elias is technically also his department head doesn’t seem to stop him from fiddling with Jon’s outfit. 

“I really should stop letting you leave the house without personally approving your wardrobe for the day.” Elias says, the slightest hint of a joke in his voice. “Who told you that you could mix two types of plaid?” 

Jon feels his face color just slightly as Elias pats the wrinkles out of Jon’s own sweater vest. He really doesn’t seem to mind their bureaucratic standing today. 

“Well, I mean, I feel like socks get a pass?” he tries. 

“Any part of your outfit can make an impression, Jonathan,” he chides. “Be it good or bad.” Something about the way he enunciates the words makes Jon feel like it’s probably the latter. 

Elias’s eyes flick past Jon’s head for a second into the room. “What film are you showing?” 

“Hitchcock.” Jon replies.

“Voyeuristic ass.” 

“Quite.” Jon snorts. “Thank you for the reminder, Elias.” 

Elias gives a small smile before turning to leave. “See you tonight, Jon.” 

* * *

Jon’s almost too caught up in trying to mark up a paper for another class when the clock hits ten, signaling the end of the period. 

“Right,” Jon says, powering off the projector. “Remember that your choices for the midterm paper are due next class, but you can post them on the discussion board before then.” Sensing a few students still unsure, he adds “Off you go.” and that seems to clear them out.

He’s fitting the papers Elias handed him beside the empty tupperware in his old leather messenger bag when he notices someone is standing in front of his desk. His eyes meet Martin’s for the second time today, only slightly less uncomfortable than the previous meeting from this morning. 

“Martin.” Jon figures the least he can do is acknowledge him. “Did you have a question?” 

“Yeah, uhm,” Martin murmurs, and Jon can still somewhat smell the coffee on him. “I was going to run my idea for my midterm paper by you, if that’s alright. Is now a bad time?” 

Jon checks the time on his wristwatch quickly. His next class isn’t for another hour. “Can you run it by me while we walk?” he suggests. 

They fall into step as they trek through the communications wing and Martin begins to propose his idea, the excitement barely contained in his voice. “Okay, so, I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of Neil Lagorio? He’s this special effects artist, was really popular for a while, recently passed away.” 

Jon nods; even with his cursory knowledge of big names in the cinema circle, he has in fact heard of Lagorio’s work. Though Jon’s tastes are very specific when it comes to movies, he’s always had a soft spot for old monster flicks. 

Spurred on by Jon recognizing the name, Martin continues. “Well, some stuff recently came to light after his death about, y’know, his mental health and stuff?” 

The two of them round the corner to the hall the Philosophy offices are down. “And, see, in his film _Toy Shop_ , the main character is sort of struggling with a lot of the stuff Lagorio himself struggled with? Mental illness-wise, I mean. And I thought: I could maybe connect him learning to live with illness with the main character’s big decision at the climax of the film?” Martin says. 

“What decision does the protagonist make, exactly?” Jon asks, hesitant. 

Martin hesitates for a second. “Well, she basically--” he pauses. “There’s like... this big monster spider hunting them through the shop the entire time, and at the end instead of killing it, she allows it to take her, in a way. Surrenders to it” A beat. “Like basically she gets covered completely in these tiny spiders and it sorta signifies how--”

“Yes, that’s alright Martin.” Jon stops him. The mental image itself almost made him lose his lunch. They come to a halt in front of the door to the philosophy office. “Try and give yourself a couple of options. Lagorio was also known for being a scientologist, you could talk about how that affected his work.” he suggests, offhandedly. 

Martin’s eyes light up. “You’re a fan of him as well, professor?” he asks, the act of hiding his embarrassment now fully forgotten. “I don’t actually know that many people who know of him- even though, I mean- when he’s worked on some of your favorite movies how can you _not_ know him, he’s--”

“Just get it in by the deadline.” Jon says, deciding the conversation has lost its point and stepping into the office to signify it. 

Martin buffers for a moment. “Right. Right, I’ll be sure to submit it on time. Thank you, professor.” he says as the door closes in front of him. 

* * *

At a cafe between classes, Jon takes out his phone and sends the following text to Daisy before he forgets. 

_From behind tonight, please. No: blindfold or gag, Yes: arms bound._

His fingers pause from moving over the screen for a second, the straight line blinking expectantly until he adds ‘marking’ under ‘yes’. He quickly presses send and pockets his phone as the barista calls his name for his second coffee order of the morning.

* * *

“That Blackwood kid’s sweet on you y’know, Jon.” Daisy says at dinner that night. 

“Sorry?” Jon questions, almost choking on his peas. 

“You haven’t noticed?” she snorts before she takes another sip of her wine. “I saw him walk down the hall after talking to you-- looked like you’d just invented the dolly zoom or something, the way he was beaming.” 

The look on Jon’s face is a mix of appall and disbelief. Surely Martin can’t have actually developed feelings for him. At least- Jon hopes to _god_ he hasn’t. The last thing he needs on top of some snobby film students is one of them _falling_ for him. 

“Jon, did you not notice this?” Elias asks as he gently skewers a piece of steak on his fork. 

“How was I meant to know?” Jon sputters and shrugs, eyebrows raised. “I spilt half my drink on him this morning and then promptly ignored him for the rest of the ride.” 

“Ah, that’s it.” Daisy points at him with her wine glass. “You missed the poems he was lovingly reciting you because your pretentious prog rock was too loud.” she leans back in the dining room chair. Jon wonders what on earth he’s done to deserve this.

“I think I’ve just lost my appetite.” he proclaims, rubbing his temples. 

“Don’t be a child, Jon.” Elias says as Daisy laughs. 

* * *

The rest of the night passes in relative peace. He pushes Martin from his mind as much as he can, and tries to forget the day as a whole, generally. The text Jon sent Daisy earlier today means these next few hours are for the three of them alone. 

He’s finishing up the dishes when Elias comes to wrap his arms around his waist from behind. 

“Hullo.” Jon smiles.

“Hello, Jon.” Elias speaks mostly into Jon’s hair. “Daisy has informed me you’d like to be taken from behind tonight.” and he says it so calmly and casually, like it doesn’t make Jon jump in his arms and almost cut himself on the steak knife he’s washing. 

“Yes,” Jon answers, small. “Is that alright?” 

“I think it can be arranged, yes.” he can hear the grin form in Elias’s voice. “Have a shower and meet us in the bedroom after.” 

Jon takes some time in the shower to prepare. Letting the hot water run over his tired muscles and calm him as best it can. He thinks he accidentally uses Daisy’s shampoo but it’s fine, she buys the stuff in bulk anyway. A few minutes in the shower and steam does wonders after being out in the London cold for most of the day, and Jon finds himself relaxing. Eventually, he’s slowly fingering himself open, trying to steady his breathing in the warm mist as he gets himself ready. 

Out of the shower, he ties his shoulder-length hair into a tight ponytail, drying it as much as he can. Pulls warm, comfortable pajamas onto his damp skin. Elias and Daisy are waiting for him on the bed when he steps out of their shared bathroom. 

Daisy motions him over and Jon obliges, shifting to sit next to her as she fits herself into her harness. The dildo next to her is Jon’s favorite, and Daisy is very aware of that fact. 

“You can strip,” she reminds him. “I’m just getting set up.”

After Jon’s shirt is off, she stops him.“Turn over.” Daisy instructs. 

He lays back on his stomach while she climbs on top of him, straddling Jon’s hips from behind. “Let me know if it’s too tight.” 

The thick rope coils around his arms and across his skin and Jon lets his eyes close slowly, lets the feeling wash over him. He allows her firm touches to take him out of his mind, out of the tension of the commute and the workday and the responsibilities. 

After she’s turned him over, Daisy continues by sliding his sweatpants and boxers off. The smell of drugstore body wash hangs on his skin, mixing with the lube she coats a finger in before pressing it to him, hand steady. Bit by bit, she fits two, then three, and then he’s in her lap, lowering himself onto her. 

Elias sits against the headboard, pacific as ever, but there's hunger in his eyes when they drink in the sight of Daisy’s cock pushing into Jon. 

“Good boy, just like that, Jon… easy,” she says against the skin of his neck. He’s whimpering before she’s even halfway into him, squeezing down and biting his lip and he takes and takes and takes more until she bottoms out inside him. 

The feeling of being filled is so much, so satisfying, and he nearly yells when she adjusts the both of them and starts thrusting up into him. Her grip on his arms is so tight, so firm, and he can’t think of anything else but her touch and Elias’s stern gaze locked onto them. 

Daisy brings a hand up to Jon’s tits, roughly palming them as she pants into his shoulder. His wet eyes flutter closed when she pinches a nipple roughly between her fingers, pulls at it and bites down near his neck. 

“Daisy, _D-Daisy_ \--” 

“You’re good. I got you.” she speaks and her lips move across his damp skin-- skin that blooms with wonderful pain when she bites again. Her canines are so sharp, breaking skin with only slight pressure; A few more minutes of building tension and then he’s sobbing.

“Elias,” Jon calls frantically. 

“Yes, Jon?” comes the reply. 

“I need you. Need you, please.” Jon babbles. “Please, please, _please--_ ” 

He’s on him fast, cold hands ghosting Jon’s sides before finding his swollen clit, his own slick smeared across his thighs making it a wonderfully easy feeling. Elias catches Jon’s lips, bites, licks, breathes into him and palms both of Jon’s breasts as he does. 

“You’re a picture, Jon.” he says when he breaks away from the kiss and goes back to working Jon’s clit. “Finish for us, I want to watch Daisy push you over the edge like you so badly need.” 

Jon sobs into Elias’s mouth, tears mixing with saliva and sweat and he comes, hard, around Daisy’s cock. Elias’s hand works at his clit through it until he’s conscious enough to place his hand on the other’s wrist to stop him as he becomes too sensitive for it. Lifting himself off of her cock, Jon slumps back against Daisy, exhausted.

“Very good.” Elias’s voice oozes adoration. “Ready for the next?”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Jon’s face is shoved into a pillow-- Elias’s, by the way it smells of his hair product and cologne-- and Daisy is fucking him in his cunt now, two firm hands on his hips holding him fast and secure. She presses her nails into his arse, leans almost fully over him, her own noises desperate and frenzied. Jon can’t exactly breathe, and he comes all the faster for it.

He’s on his back as Daisy’s tongue works his clit, her fingers curled inside him as Elias sits on his face and fucks his throat, holds him down by the wrists, now unbound and resting just above his head. There’s a sudden jolt in his chest as Daisy brings her mouth closer onto him and _sucks,_ and a few seconds later Elias is burying himself in Jon’s mouth, making him work to swallow down every drop. Some still runs out of his mouth when Elias pulls out, it mixes with Jon’s tears on his wet cheeks as he crooks his lips up.

Daisy’s thighs hold Jon’s head in place and every thrust from Elias pushes Jon further into her. Her hands are fisted into his hair, damp with sweat, and when she tugs at it Jon moans low in his throat, the vibration making her face twist in concentration and pleasure again. “Elias,” he hears her say, breathless. “Harder, fuck me harder.” Elias shifts above him to kiss her, from what Jon can infer by the way Daisy comes into his mouth a second after.

* * *

The coolness of the damp towel Elias runs across him is a welcome relief on his hot skin. Jon’s propped up against the pillows as Elias towels him off silently, diligently. The distant sound of water running means Daisy’s in the shower, and probably will be for a bit. She likes alone time after these things, it's her way of resetting. Elias helps Jon pull his clothes back on, the subtle laundry detergent eventually overriding the smell of sweat in due time. 

“Did that help to clear your head a bit?” Elias asks as he gathers Jon’s hair behind his head into a short ponytail. Their session had loosened the previous one.

“I would say so, yeah.” Jon answers, happily exhausted. He turns to face Elias, smiles and stares for a second, then lets Elias kiss him again. 

“I’ll look over those course changes first thing tomorrow,” Jon says against Elias’s lips. “Promise.”

“I know you will.” Elias says, pulling away and kissing Jon’s warm forehead. “You just needed to be put in your place first.” 

“Yeah,” Jon says, and nestles into the soft pillows next to Elias.

“Feel better?” Daisy asks when she’s out of the shower, crawling into bed next to the two of them. Elias is reading and usually Jon would too, but he likes to just let his mind remain empty after sessions like these. Completely devoid of anything but the weight of the two people laying next to him.

“Yes, thank you. You did wonderfully.” Jon smiles sleepily against the pillow. 

“You weren’t too bad yourself.” Daisy replies. 

Jon waits until she’s sat in bed before he asks, quietly. “I know I didn’t ask it, but, uh,” he takes a breath. “Would you hold me?”

“Yeah.” Daisy says after a beat. “Yeah, come here.” 

Jon does. He knows Daisy is prone to dom drop from time to time, and he enjoys giving her opportunities to be softer to him, to show the side of her that’s incredibly caring and devoted. She’s told him before that it helps, but she doesn’t usually feel confident enough to bring it up herself, even if she does want it. It’s something they’re working on. 

Both Jon and Daisy are small, but Jon feels wonderfully tiny in her arms. Not looking up from his book, Elias reaches over to pet at Jon’s hair a few times. When he eventually stops, Daisy waits a couple seconds before taking his place, running her hands through Jon’s dark curls, absentmindedly twirling it around her finger.

The rise and fall of her chest as he rests against it soon lulls him into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

Wednesday is better.

Martin’s early today. He’s sat at a desk near the window towards the back of the room, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone when Jon walks in that morning. The leftovers from the dinner Elias cooked the previous night are safely in the staff room fridge. 

Jon does a basic lecture on color correction in post-production, reviews how color affects emotions and touches on color scripts as well. They finish the rest of the Hitchcock movie, and Jon even allows himself to watch some of the end of it. 

After Monday he made a schedule for himself per Elias’s request, and a good part of his Tuesday was spent catching up on work. He feels much better than he did at the beginning of the week. He’s not spilling coffee on students, at the very least. 

Martin comes up to him after class again, asks about if he can change his topic to a dissection of the ‘final girl’ trope in classic slasher movies. Jon approves it, gives some pointers, and pretends he doesn’t see the way Martin’s cheeks go bright red when his eyes drop below Jon’s jawline and find the small purplish mark peeking up just slightly above his collar. 

So he forgot to apply a concealer this morning-- something had to give to get everything else to go so smoothly. He’ll blame Daisy if Elias hears about it and brings it up, which Jon knows he won’t: he’s just as guilty as they are.

**Author's Note:**

> jon: *spills coffee on a stranger* *sees hes wearing a smiths shirt* youre welcome
> 
> title from 'when i kissed the teacher' by abba. sorry. couldnt resist.


End file.
